Beyond Moulin Rouge
by cherryade
Summary: AU: Satine survives and lives the life she was always meant to live with Christian.


Christian finds his typewriter somewhere in the attic, covered with enough dust to start a small-scale dust bunny war. He removes it from its protective casing and caresses it gently.

_It has been six years since I have last seen you, my friend, _he thinks. _Where have you been?_

He blows the rest of the dust away and cradles it close to him. It was time. He descends the rickety ladder and heads to the solitude of his study. He has lots to accomplish and he plans to take as much time as possible.

~ 1901:

"Ah-ah, no peeking," said Christian as he covered Satine's eyes with his hands.

"Why not?" she whined as she attempted to pry his fingers away.

"Because I say so," Christian replied teasingly. "Careful here, there's a step!"

Unfortunately, Christian's warning came too slowly. With a squeak, Satine tripped, her graceful body teetering precariously for a fraction of a second before tumbling gracelessly forwards. Luckily for her, Christian was paying attention. He stepped forward deftly and swept her up in his arms, pulling her close to him as her frame was wracked with the force of her coughing. Christian frowned.

"I thought the doctor said you recovered?" he asked in concern. Satine looked away.

"W-well…" she stuttered as Christian gave her a disapproving look. "I'm recovering, love. It's just…"

"Just?" Christian prompted as his new wife's voice trailed away.

"He felt that the country air would do me good," she said in a rush and glanced at his face, searching for a response. Christian raised an eyebrow. "Don't blame him, love. I told him not to tell you."

"Why not?" Christian sighed.

"Because you would never let me travel!"

"That's right, I wouldn't. I can't lose you, Satine."

Satine smiled and planted her lips on her husband's.

"I can't lose you either," she whispered. Pulling away from his embrace, she whirled around to face her new home and future. It was a simple house, white curtains, wooden furniture. Satine stared. She had never seen such simplicity before. All her life, she had lived under the red and garish lighting of the Moulin Rouge with its frilly decorations and fancy atmosphere.

"Do you like it?" Christian asked eagerly as she steered her over to their bedroom.

"Oh Christian, I love it!" she cried, giving him a tight hug. Christian smiled.

"Good," he said and placed his hands on her shoulders. "This is our future. We'll build a family here, just like we always wanted." Satine nodded and leaned against his chest. Christian hugged her for a brief moment before pushing her gently onto the bed.

"Now rest," he ordered as he headed towards the door. "I'll get us dinner."

Satine closed her eyes.

_Our future. _

~ 1902:

Sunlight streamed in from the window, bathing the room in a comforting warmth. Christian paced back and forth, hands behind his back and worry driving him insane. Satine had fainted suddenly as she picked tomatoes in the back garden. The country air had indeed done her good, speeding up her recovery process so much that she had not coughed for two months. He had heard horror stories of sudden deaths of consumption patients and he felt his heart clench.

Vertigo gripped him as he thought of losing Satine for the second time and he lowered himself shakily on the sofa. He could not lose her again. The last time, he almost killed himself with the amount of alcohol he had consumed. This time, the loss would be permanent, not her move to save him from the Duke's henchmen. This time, it would be Death coming down and sweeping her away from his arms. Christian ran a hand through his hair and tried to calm his erratic breathing. It would not do to be pessimistic now, not when Satine needed her, his Satine.

"Sir," the doctor called as he stepped out of the room. Christian was by his side in a heartbeat.

"How is she? Will she be okay? Is there anything I should do?" he asked, firing out the questions rapidly. The doctor shook his head.

"You can't do anything, sir," he said quietly and Christian thought his heart stopped beating. He stared at the doctor for a few seconds, not comprehending what he was hearing. "Other than to prepare, of course."

"Prepare," Christian repeated monotonously as his heart shattered into a few pieces and those pieces shredded some more.

"Yes, prepare. Babies are incredibly hard to look after," he advised a stunned Christian. "I'm sure you'll do fine."

"B-babies?" Christian stuttered, not quite understanding. "Baby… I'm going to be a father?"

The doctor smiled, a slow movement of his lips that he always used on first time parents. "Did I not say that?" he asked and Christian shook his head. "Ah. Well, yes, you are going to be father. Congratulations!"

Christian thanked the doctor profusely as he gave the doctor some money and shook his proffered hand enthusiastically. The good doctor nodded his thanks and left, enigmatic smile still in place. He loved being the bearer of good news.

Christian stood before the door and stared at it for an entire minute, letting the news soak into every fibre of his being. The news washed across him as a wave of pure delight. All thoughts of death and despair fizzled away and died, leaving only happiness in its place. He was going to be a father! Unable to bear it anymore, he burst into the room.

"I'm going to be a father!" he hollered at the top of his lungs. There were no neighbours to bother about anyway. Satine laughed and held out her hands. Christian went forth immediately and grasped it with trembling hands.

"Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you so much." He moved forward and planted a soft kiss on her red curls. "I love you."

He spent the rest of the night serenading her with songs that he was sure they would never forget.

_And I love you, until the end of time._

~ 1903:

Satine pulled Christian into the house before Christian could even greet his wife. The sunlight was fading, the shadows were lengthening and the quiet of the night was broken by the loud twin wails of two very high-pitched individuals.

"Just in time!" Satine cried in relief. "Odette won't stop crying!" She placed the screaming baby girl into his arms and rushed off to pick up her twin.

"Shh," Christian soothed as Odette coughed. She gazed up at him with round eyes and gurgled. Christian smiled as he tickled the baby gently. She laughed and cooed and snuggled closer to her father. Closing her eyes, she drifted off contentedly. Christian held her for another half an hour before placing her carefully in her crib. Satine came up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Ewan's asleep," she muttered tiredly. "Finally."

Christian laughed and turned around, drawing Satine into his arms.

"It's time we got to bed too, love," he suggested and led the way.

_Come what may._

1904:

Ewan took a tottering step and almost tumbled forward. Christian lunged forward and steadied the toddler before he fell. He didn't need a bawling son because he was harder to placate than his sister was. Odette watched from her place on her mother's lap and giggled when her father let out a sigh of relief. Satine smiled at the scene. Back when she was still Moulin Rouge's most sought after prisoner, she never thought she would be able to fall in love, let alone raise a family. Christian caught her eye and grinned. Picking his son up, he brought him over to the mat where his wife and daughter were currently enjoying their picnic.

"Come on, Ewan, time for lunch," he said, putting his son down and picking up his daughter. Odette squealed and wrapped her small arms around Christian's neck. Christian ruffled her copper hair and brought her over to the apple tree. Plucking a small one deftly from the lowest branches, he cleaned it by rubbing the apple on his shirt and passed it to Odette for her to play with. Odette giggled and copied the movement. Ewan looked up at his twin's antics and lunged for the apple from the basket. Satine smiled again as she took one out and gave it to him. He giggled and rubbed it against his pants.

Christian caught Satine's eye and both of them burst out laughing.

_How wonderful life is, now you're in the world._

~ 1905:

Christian glared at the letter in his hands as Satine fed the children. He thought that Moulin Rouge was a past in their lives, glorious moments of courtship that almost ended in tragedy. Despite the happy memories, the fact that his wife was once the most sought after courtesan at Paris' most glitzy establishment. It was a letter from Harry Zidler.

_Dearest Satine, _it read.

_I hope this letter finds you well. The Moulin Rouge has been doing a sad business this past few years. For the past five years, the Duke held the deeds to the Moulin Rouge. This, however, has all changed a few days ago._

_There was a break-in at the Duke's residence. The exact happenings were not released but Chocolat tells me that the robber held a grudge against the dear Duke and stole not only his most valuable belongings but also his life. The robber is still on the loose and the rest of us here have been ignoring the suspicious man that lingers outside the doors of the Moulin. I am quite sure it is he. Toulouse saw him slide an envelope that, on further inspection, contained the deeds to the Moulin Rouge._

_To celebrate our new opening, I would like to invite you back to play the lead role in Spectacular! Spectacular! Christian is invited too, of course, as well as anyone else you would like to invite. I hope you will consent to this but if not, do return to visit us sometime. Marie misses you, as do the rest of us._

_Yours, _

_Harry Zidler_

Christian put the letter down and looked at his wife.

"Are you going?" he asked bluntly. She lowered her gaze and let her long red hair obscure her face.

"I want to," Satine replied as she continued feeding her children.

"Why?"

"Because," she took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. "I miss the stage. I miss Marie and Toulouse and Chocolat and Harry and everyone else. Just this once. Please, Christian."

Christian ran a hand down his face and stared at the letter in his lap. He couldn't disappoint his wife and he couldn't forget the fact that that was where he wrote his first book. _Moulin Rouge_ was a rousing success amongst the young girls fantasizing about finding true love. It was where it all started, where they first met and where he first was rejected. He sighed. He did write _Spectacular! Spectacular! _after all.

"Fine," he acquiesced as he folded up the letter and slipped it back into the envelope. "But what about the children?"

"Marie can look after them while we rehearse. Rehearsals won't take that long," she said.

"Why not?"

"Because," Satine said as she put the bowl down and walked over to Christian. Her gaze met his and he had to resist a sudden urge to kiss her. "I remember every line and song."

~ 1907:

Christian allows his fingers to dance across the typewriter; the click-clack of the keys gives him much satisfaction.

"What's Daddy doing?" Ewan asks as he tugs on his father's sleeve. Christian smiles and scoops his son into his lap.

"I'm writing a story," he replies.

"What story is it?" Ewan is at an age where he cannot stop asking questions.

"It's a story about you, son. About Odette. About your mother and I," Christian says.

"What is it called?"

Christian smiles. "Beyond Moulin Rouge."

Ewan curls up on his father's lap.

"Can I help?" he asks innocently.

"You already did son," Christian replies. "You already did."

_The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return._


End file.
